Father's Day
by Spring Sunrise
Summary: A collection of oneshots and drabbles about the thoughts of different characters regarding Father's Day.
1. Alistair

_Dedicated to all the deserving fathers and father figures out there_

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><p>Alistair Oh wished someone would call. Preferably Amy or Daniel, or perhaps Sinead. Not that he was in any position to be picky. He would be lucky if anyone remembered him on this day. No one had, not since he was four and his own father had been alive. Then the "accident" had occurred, and Alistair was forced to live with Bae, who had never bothered with the holiday. Alistair sighed as he looked outside the window, and watched the warm sun's rays fall across his lawn. The lawn that the money from his microwavable burritos had bought.<p>

It has been on this day, many years ago, that Alistair had thought of it. Bae had just come back from a business trip in Mexico, and although Alistair was young at the time, he received the impression that Bae had not enjoyed the trip.

_"And speaking of inconvenience, why can't the Mexicans have any food that is quick to prepare?" Bae had complained. "Why must a burrito take so long to cook?" He sat down, seemingly oblivious to the card that was less than two inches from his hand. Alistair had made that card for him. Bae may not have been Alistair's father, or father-like toward him in any way, for that matter, but he was still the closest thing Alistair had had to a father since Gordon Oh's death. Bae, however, did not seem to care._

_"Maybe someday I will invent a burrito that is easy to make," Alistair said. Bae glanced at his nephew sharply._

_"You _are_ an Ekat, but I doubt _you_ could create anything useful," he said. Alistair frowned. He would, and then, maybe, Bae would be proud of him._

Now, years later, Alistair knew the truth. Bae would resist doing or feeling anything remotely father-like toward the boy he had been responsible for raising, and that included pride. Alistair was older now, though, and could be a father figure to someone else.

That is, if there was anyone who wanted him to be. If there was anyone who, anyone who... anyone who cared about him.

Alistair wished someone would call. Amy, Daniel, or Sinead, it didn't matter. He was not in any position to be picky. He just wanted to know if there was someone who still cared.

* * *

><p>Truth be told, Alistair was shocked when the phone rang.<p>

"Hello?" he answered cautiously, careful not to get his hopes up.

"Uncle Alistair?" It was Amy. "I was, um, just wondering if you had any plans for Father's Day. It's coming up pretty soon."

"Wait, I believe today _is_ Father's Day."

"Really? Hold on a moment - hey, Dan, when's Father's Day? I_ know_ that Sinead's going to - of course I didn't forget - be quiet, dweeb. Sorry, Uncle Alistair. Dan's being annoying. But Father's Day is in a week. You're not doing anything, are you?"

"I do believe I have no plans. Care to tell me, my dear girl, what Sinead is planning?"

"W-w-what? Oh, Sinead's not planning anything important. Don't worry about it - _No, Dan, I did not forget!_ - So you don't have any plans. That's good." Suddenly Amy seemed to become embarrassed. "I mean, that way you don't have to cancel anything if something surprises you, right?"

"I suppose so."

"_No, Dan, I didn't tell him - fine, I'll get off before I let it slip_- Sorry, Uncle Alistair, but I have to go."

"Thank you for calling, my dear. And I do hope whatever Sinead is planning turns out fine."

"I hope so, too. I'll see you next - I mean, bye!"

"Good-bye, Amy."

Maybe his Father's Day wouldn't be so lonely, after all.

* * *

><p>AN: Just a short little oneshot I wrote for fun. If it seems like it should have ended in the middle, that's because it was originally supposed to end there. But Alistair deserves better, don't you think?

All constructive criticism is appreciated, but this was my first attempt to include a flashback in a story, so I would really like to know if I did it correctly.

_Quote of the Day: _"What fools these mortals be!" - Puck, _A Midsummer Night's Dream _by William Shakespeare


	2. Nikolai

_Dedicated to all those who do not have fathers to celebrate Father's Day with_

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><p>"Mama, where's papa?"<p>

Irina glanced up from the papers she was looking at.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, frowning at her son. They never discussed his father. Never.

"Alexei was talking about his papa at school today, and about how his papa is going to take him to see monkeys at the zoo tomorrow. Everyone I know has a papa, except me."

"_I_ can take you to see the monkeys at the zoo," Irina snapped. As much as she loved her son, his father was a sore subject for her. She did not like thinking about the past. She could not go back in time and change what had happened, so why should she even bother sparing a thought for the past?

Nikolai was quiet. Good. Perhaps he would forget about his father for a while. Irina knew that someday she would have to talk with Nikolai about it, but for now, she would rather put that day off for as long as possible. She returned to the papers she had been looking at.

But Nikolai did not go away.

"I heard that Pyotr's father is going to take him to visit the Motherland Calls on Soviet Army and Navy Day. Why can't my papa take me?"

Irina put the papers down angrily. The Kabras would be displeased if her paperwork was late, but she still had time. This questioning, however, was something she wanted to cut off quickly, before her son pried any further.

"Nikolai Romanovitch Spasky, you have no papa, so there is not point in continuing this foolish questioning. If you do so, you will learn nothing, because there is nothing to know. Now, I am busy, so why don't you go visit Anna and see if she is not too busy to watch you?"

"Roman," Nikolai said quietly.

Irina's head snapped up. She got up quickly from her chair and turned to face her son.

"_What_ did you just say?"

"Well," Nikolai's said. "If I am called Nikolai _Romanovitch_, then that means my father's name must have been Roman."

Irina's fists clenched and her heartbeat began to speed up, despite all her practice at controlling her emotions. Suddenly her face became a blank mask, completely free of any type of emotion. She sat back into her chair and began, once again, to go through paperwork. A bit more stiffly than before, Nikolai noted.

"Mama?" Nikolai said. Irina ignored him. "Mama?" he asked again, this time a bit softer. Irina still refused to look at him. Nikolai waited for his mother to respond for a few moments, although he knew it was pointless to do so. When Irina wore that mask on her face, he knew his mother was not there. He turned to leave.

Irina, meanwhile, could not concentrate on her paperwork, no matter how hard she tried. _At least the worst is over with_, she thought. Nikolai had left now, and he would most likely forget the entire thing soon enough. He was young. Young boys have short attention spans and short memories.

"Mama?"

_Blin!_ Of course, Nikolai was not just any young boy; he was _her_ son. Not to mention a Lucian. Irina cursed her stupidity. Nikolai had not left as she had thought he had. It took effort to not look at him, but Irina had not undergone years of both KGB and Lucian training to give into impulses so easily. She was not able to ignore his next words, though.

"I will not forget, and neither should you. You should always remember things you should never forget."

Knowing that Nikolai could not see the display of emotion because her back was to him, Irina rolled her eyes. What kind of advice was that?

* * *

><p>"Everyone has a papa. Why don't I have one?" Nickolai was asking Anna an hour later. Nickolai liked talking to Anna and was glad that he often got the chance to, as Irina often asked her neighbor to watch him while she was out. This was the first time that she sent him over to Anna's home because she simply did not want him around, however.<p>

Anna sighed before answering.

"You do have one, Nickolai," she began. "You just don't know him."

"I _know_ that. I just want to know _why_ I don't know him."

Anna stood up from the worn green couch she had been sitting on with Nickolai. She walked to the room's small window and looked out for a minute, thinking about how to answer the young boy. Finally, she turned around and went to sit back on the couch with him.

"I don't know," she told him gently. "Only your mother knows that, and I'm sure she has a reason for waiting to tell you. Everything has a reason."

"Everything?"

"Everything," Anna said.

"Snow?"

"Snow makes many things look pretty. It also melts into water, which everyone needs to live. Animals, too, as well as plants."

"The cold?" It was wintertime, and the Russian winter was not known for being mild. Far from it. Even the short walk from his home to his school left Nickolai's nose tinged with blue.

"Without the cold, it there would be now snow." Anna smiled, then became serious. "Also, the cold helps protect Russia. Although our soldiers are very brave, there have been times when the cold has helped drive enemies away."

"Really?"

"Yes," Anna said, and then looked down at her hands. "You know, I don't know my papa, either."

"You don't?"

"Not anymore. I used to, but then the war came and he had to go protect the Motherland. Now I don't see him anymore." When he heard this, Nickolai thought for a moment.

"Is that why I don't know my papa?" he asked. "He had to go protect the Motherland?"

"Only your mother knows that," Anna repeated. "Maybe."

Nikolai smiled. He liked the idea of his father being a brave soldier who protected the Motherland. Still, he wished that there was still a chance that he could meet his father again. _He might not have been a soldier. I could still meet him_.

"Maybe he didn't. Maybe he's like a monkey."

"A monkey?" Anna was confused. "How so?"

"I've never seen a monkey before, but I've read about them," Nikolai said. "They're very nice, but they don't always behave very well. It's not because they mean to be bad, though. They just have a lot of energy and need to use it. Maybe my papa is like a monkey, with a lot of energy, and maybe he needed to use that energy, so he started running someday. Only he ran so much he got lost and couldn't come back to me and Mama. He wanted to, but he couldn't, because he's like a monkey. He doesn't mean to be bad, but he does, anyway."

Anna smiled. Leave it to Nikolai to think of something like that.

"I haven't seen my papa, but I haven't seen a monkey, either. Mama says one day she'll take me to see monkeys. Maybe one day she'll take me to see my papa, too."

"Yes," Anna said, still smiling. "Perhaps one day you will meet both a monkey and your papa."

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah, not a very original chapter. I have a character that is less commonly used in mind for the next Father's Day drabble, but that doesn't excuse this one.

Also, yes, that last line Nikolai says to Irina was a reference to _In Too Deep_. Not the exact quote, but the line was based off of the quote.

For those of you who are familiar with Russian culture, please feel free to point out any mistakes I can correct, since I had to do a bit of research for this story and some of the information I found may have been inaccurate. Ditto for those of you who know something about monkeys.

**For those of you are not familiar with Russian culture**, I feel a few explanations are owed:

1. Pyotr's name is spelled that way on purpose. It is the Russian spelling of "Peter."

2. Russia does not have an official "Father's Day," according to my research. They have a holiday called "Defender of the Fatherland Day", but when Nikolai was alive, the holiday was called "Soviet Army and Navy Day." It's supposed to celebrate the military and veterans, but has become sort of a holiday celebrating all men, and has been compared to International Women's Day.

3. Russian middle names are based on the name of a person's father. If a person is a boy, his middle name will be his father's name with the suffix _-ovitch_, or something similar to it. If Nickolai's middle name is Roman_ovitch_, and the _-ovitch_ suffix is removed, then the name "Roman" is left, revealing the name of Nickolai's father. For those of you who wanted so badly to believe it was Vikram, Fiske, Alistair, or someone else, don't worry; maybe Irina secretly cheated on a man named Roman and gave Nickolai the middle name to give the appearance that he was Roman's son? So that part is still left up to the reader's determination.

_Quote of the Day -_

"You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be!" - Albus Dumbledore, _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire _by J. K. Rowling


	3. Beatrice

Father? What father?

She didn't have a father.

There _was_ a man who had been partially responsible for her birth. Had provided her with plenty of money for all her needs. Had made sure she was given the education and training that befitted the heir of such an important Cahill. And had left his children as soon as their mother was gone.

Not that he had been such a warm and loving presence before he disappeared. He had been too involved in Cahill activity to pay much attention to his children.

Father? What father?

Beatrice Cahill didn't have a father.

* * *

><p>AN: One hundred words exactly! An official drabble!

_Quote of the Day_: "In our family, you don't get a childhood. We're too busy trying to dominate the world." - Amy Cahill, _The Emperor's Code_ by Gordon Korman


	4. Arthur

_A/N: Dedicated to my dad. Happy Birthday!_

Warning: **Spoilers** for _A King's Ransom_

* * *

><p>She was beautiful.<p>

_Duh-duh_

He watched the way her fingers move not-so-gracefully over the keys, occasionally stumbling over a note.

_Dun-dun-dunda-duh_

He watched the way her soft green eyes sent their gaze skimming over the notes.

_Duh-duh-dah-dah_

He watched the way strands of red-tinged hair fell in her eyes.

_Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh_

He watched the way his daughter's mouth frowned in concentration, and he thought about all the times that mouth had smiled up at him.

_Duh-duh-duh_

Those smiles – was it really only a couple of years ago that he had been blessed with them everyday? - had always been as gentle as she was, and even her frowns had a softness to them, a quality that made him want to protect her.

_Duh-duh-duh_

But he couldn't. Not with things the way they were. Later, he would be able to talk to her, to explain and apologize. The problem was, she needed his protection most of all _now_, while there were so many things wrong with the world. There was too much danger.

_Dunda-dunda-dah_

The music grew louder, not as soft as before. The frown was deeper now, its creases sharper. Her eyes hardened as she played with more force.

_Dunda-dunda-dah_

She could take care of herself. Being her mother's daughter, her grandmother's granddaughter, and, of course, _his_ daughter, she would be strong enough to make it through all of the challenges life would throw at her. She and her brother would be just fine without him.

_Da-dunda-da-dah_

The music became softer, but it was still stronger than it had been when she had started.

_Dunda-dunda-dah_

Amy finished the piece and gave a curtsy, her face red but her eyes sparkling. Just the way her mother's used to sparkle. They looked so much alike. Her mother was gone, but she was still there.

He still had hope.

* * *

><p>AN: In my mind, Arthur has a good reason for never letting Amy and Dan know that he was alive, and misses them, so he checks up on them every once in a while, like at Amy's piano recitals.

_Quote of the Day:_ "Trust is a fragile thing. Difficult to build. Easy to break." - Alistair Oh, _The Sword Thief _by Peter Lerangis


	5. Smiles

Smiles could have so many meanings.

He had never noticed it until he developed a sore throat and was forced to communicate with gestures and, no less importantly, facial expressions. He regained his voice, but he never looked at smiles the same way again.

They could say "I'm happy," "Thank you," "You're welcome," or "It's okay."

"I know a secret."

"I just won a prestigious award."

"I'm proud of you, son."

He wasn't sure why he bothered to contemplate them, though. The meanings didn't matter anymore. Not to him, anyway.

He would never see his father smile at him again.

* * *

><p>AN: So, who do you think this is about? I did have someone specific in mind when writing, but there are so many 39 Clues characters that could fit this that I'd like to see which character people guess. If you really want to know who it is, you can ask me and I'll PM you the answer.

_Quote of the Day:_ "Proofread carefully to see if you any words out." - Anonymous


	6. Hamilton

Hey.

Listen, Dad, we need to talk. Remember talking to each other? I used to be able to talk to you about nearly anything. We were so close. Side by side, together, we would always be able to do the same things and enjoy that great feeling of being with your dad. Well, I got that feeling, and I can't say what you felt, but I loved it. I understood you, and you understood me better than anyone else in the world. What happened to us?

I want to go back to that, to us being – what?

Dad, you know that's –

Dad!_ Listen_!

This has nothing to do with you not being good with computers. _I don't care about that_. I care more about being able to connect with you, the way I used to always be able to do, and know that you understood me like no one else. I mean, none of my friends are into computers, unless you count Sinead – yeah, she's an Ekat, but she's pretty cool, and we're not talking about the other Cahills. We're talking about _us_.

We're always going to have sports to bond over, but I've come to realize it may not be the thrill of victory that's always driven me play them. It's having something in common with you, and with Reagan and Madison and Mom, that's made me love sports so much. That's not going to change, no matter what – or who – else I like. Believe it or not, I _don't care_ about your IQ or your computer problems.

I just want my Dad back. I miss you.

* * *

><p>AN: For those of you who haven't read Rapid Fire, Hamilton and Eisenhower have grown distant since the clue hunt. This little speech I wrote for Hamilton is supposed to be my way of fixing that.

_Quote of the Day:_ "My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mother would come out and say, 'You're tearing up the grass;' 'We're not raising grass,' Dad would reply. 'We're raising boys.'"


	7. Jake

Despite having lived seven long years, Jake Rosenbloom couldn't remember a day when he had his father all to himself. Dr. Mark Rosenbloom was always going off on archaeological digs, speaking at conventions, and conducting research in countries with names Jake could barely pronounce. So when his dad suggested spending a whole day together, Jake felt pure excitement for about five hours before he became nervous. He didn't get to spend much time with his father, and what if he messed up and did something Dad didn't like? Dad might not want to spend time with him anymore.

Things looked a little dicey when Jake challenged the tour guide to a race through the halls and then again when he almost touched one of the old guitars in the antique instrument exhibit, but by the time he and Dad were eating lunch in the cafeteria, Dr. Rosenbloom's face wasn't so red anymore and Jake began to relax.

"So, you really liked those instruments, didn't you, son?" Mark casually asked. Jake smiled.

"Yeah, they were really cool."

"Especially the guitars, right?" Mark winked as Jake avoided his eyes, recalling the security guard's face as Jake had reached out his fingers toward the guitar. Mark smiled reassuringly.

"It's great that you're inquisitive and interested in music. I could get you guitar lessons and maybe you could join a band when you're older. Music's always better when it's shared." Jake nodded his head. "And you know what would be great, son?"

"What?"

"If you had a little brother to share it with."

"But I don't _want_ to share it with a little brother," Jake said. Then he realized what his father's words meant. "I'm getting a little brother?"

"Yes, and you get to help raise him. If you do a good job and set a good example, he'll turn out just as wonderfully as you. And if he does, then you're guaranteed to like him, I promise."

Jake frowned. "Will l have to share with him?"

"Yes, but don't worry. I promise they'll always be enough for both of you." Mark leaned forward. "You'll have another person to love you, in addition to Mom and me, and you'll also have another person to love. And remember, Jake, you can never have enough love." He smiled. "Oh, and Mom and I want your help in naming him. I was thinking of naming him after a noteworthy intellectual, and Mom wants something that reflects her African-American heritage, since yours reflects my Jewish one. Do you have any ideas?"

Jake was silent.

"They'll always be enough for both of you, Jake, I promise. Mom and I plan on loving him just as much as we love and always will love you, and we would appreciate it if you also loved him. Will you, Jake?"

"Okay, Dad. I'll love him, and I'll take care of him, too. I promise."


	8. Evan

What was that sound?

Oh, yeah. Knocking.

Evan jolted out of his trance and glanced at the clock. It couldn't be time for dinner already. He hadn't been on the computer for that lon - oh.

"Hey, Ev, your dinner's getting cold."

"Sure, Dad, just a second! Let me close this down."

A moment passed, and then his dad spoke again.

"That's funny. Usually when you lose track of time like this you leave whatever it is you're working on up so you can get back to it right away. What happened?"

Evan blushed. "Nothing. This isn't anything important, really."

"Can I come in?"

Evan paused. "Okay."

The bedroom door opened and his dad entered.

"So what are you doing that's so important?"

"I'm just talking to a classmate about my English paper."

"Is this person good at English?"

"Oh yeah, Amy's _really_ smart, and not just in English. She knows all sorts of things about history and geography. Sometimes it's like she's so much older than fifteen, because she knows so much and she's so mature," Evan babbled.

"I see. Just make sure that you don't get too distracted. As impressed as I'm sure she would be with any awe-inspiring witty comments you might accidentally make, I'm sure that she'd be equally impressed by how well you listened to her after she sees your final draft."

"... Is it that obvious that I like her?"

"Yeah, it is, but don't worry. It's surprising how oblivious some people can be to how others feel about them. She probably has no clue."

"Oh." Evan was quiet. "Dad? What did you do when you first started liking Mom, before you got together?"

"I thought of something she liked doing and asked her if she wanted to do it together sometime. After that, things just progressed naturally. If you two are really right for each other, you'll enjoy being with each other and you'll be able to find ways you can hang out and have fun together."

"She likes to to read, but I'm not so sure she'd want to have a date in the library."

"I didn't say that it wouldn't take _effort_. But you're a great guy, Evan, and I'm sure she'll see that, especially if she's half as smart as you make her sound."

"Thanks, Dad." Evan shifted in his seat. "But do you think she'll be _impressed_? Lots of guys are great, and the only thing that really makes me stand out is the computer thing, and she's more into books."

"So? There's more to you than being amazingly good with computers. I used to think that the only thing that made me special were my strawberry shortcakes, but your mother convinced me otherwise. And you don't have to take her to the library. At first I thought I was going to go crazy finding a place to take Mom until I heard her talking to her friends about how much she wanted to see the new James Bond movie. Turned out she was interested in a lot more than computers, and I'm sure there's more to Amy than that pretty bookworm in your English class."

Evan took off his glasses and began fiddling with them, looking down, so his dad wouldn't see his face. "I guess I could talk to her brother," he said, not mentioning that Dan freaked him out a little. That thing with the windshield-wipers had been so weird... although it was probably best not to bring that up at the moment. "Thanks for the advice, Dad." His dad smiled.

"You'll be fine, Evan. Even if things don't work out with Amy, remember that you still have a bright future in front of you, and you'll always have us. Now, come eat your dinner. We're having cookies for dessert."

"You baked without me?"

"Hey, you were busy with your girlfriend - I mean, your 'homework.'" Mr. Tolliver smiled. "Don't worry, we haven't started _From Russia with Love_ yet."

Evan smiled back. No matter what happened with Amy, at least he had his family.

* * *

><p>AN: I am so sorry.

_Quote of the Day:_ "Never regret trusting someone. It proves you have a heart. But if he turns out to be a lying worm, I wouldn't waste my time crying. Because I am way too fabulous for that." - Nellie Gomez, _Beyond the Grave _by Jude Watson


End file.
